


Come Here, My Child

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-29
Updated: 2004-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiberius fondly remembers a old friend, and projects to a new one. Tiberius/Gaius<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Here, My Child

**Author's Note:**

> Written for autiotalo

 

 

The summer heat had stifled all activity. Wet and warm, it hung around the trees and villas like a cloak, draping everything and blocking away any claming breeze. A storm had been in the coming for days, and now, was ready to descend, blocking out the sun, and making the midday seem like night.

The vines hung, looping through the trees, swayed in the wind and rattled the leaves. The whip of wind through the brush had supplanted bird calls. The lushly decorated villa had been closed up, as best as it could, to protect the valued furnishings. The slaves, still cautious of Tiberius, had been gentle with the objects, moving heavy statues carefully, under the watchful eyes of the younger men, Gemellus and Gaius. The doors had been latched shut, for the storm was promising to be strong.

Tiberius Claudius Nero Caesar watched the beginning of the storm with a practiced eye. He could see the nexus of the storm coming in, off the grey water, ready to incite the stationary plants into a frenzy. Tiberius had never seen a storm at Capri before, as it had always been a calm and warm place, but years spent in the government had given him knowledge of weathering frights.

Moving away from his balcony, Tiberius slowly walked to his chair, prepared to wait out the storm. Sitting down, he gave the appearance of one much smaller, with his curved shoulders, and stooped head. The labor of managing the Empire had made Tiberius seem much older than he was, like a peasant who has seen too many hard harvests, and shrinks in on himself. Tiberius was no common peasant, laboring away at a fallow field, but the drawn faces of his advisers had torn down his vitality and will.

He had gone to Capri to escape Rome. The power that had consumed all the Emperors had been left behind, for this lonely island. What good was power when there was a knife coming out of your back, draining you of all you had? No amount of supreme might could revive a man. Tiberius had retreated when he could, and considered himself lucky to have done so.

Since his arrival, Tiberius had only had a few audiences. Many of his old compatriots thought he was mad, to leave behind such power, and had not sought an audience. They were too afraid of his cowardice rubbing off on them. Tiberius knew he was not a coward; he was an emperor who had made a noble and tactical retreat.

Antonia had come, worming her way into his rooms, looking exotic in her finery. Her deep brown hair had been laced with ivory colored ribbons, and she had not seemed the devious and power hungry woman that she was. Striding around the villa like it was her own, Antonia had seemed entirely in control, swaying her hips to the soft sound of the waves cresting at the shore.

Tiberius was sure that had Antonia been a man, she would have wrested control, and ruled. As it was, she fought twice as hard, and had dispatched several pretenders to power out to the far northern reaches of the Empire. Tiberius was glad that if not truly supporting him, Antonia at least seemed not to be engaged in actively ruining him.

He was sure that those smooth hands could be called upon to kill, if need be. Tiberius never turned his back to Antonia, for the danger was too great. Her machinations surely involved him, and Tiberius was determined to not be a stepping- stone. No true man would be a path for Antonia, even though she was nearly as vicious as a starving wolf.

Antonia had brought her children to Rhodes, as well, when Tiberius had lived there. She had visited both of his islands, the only one who had. He had remembered Germanicus as a small boy, flitting around his mother's skirts like a fly. That little boy, with a pleasing face, and friendly manners had changed so much. Tiberius reflected upon the fond hours he spent with the boy, playing on the beaches of Rhodes, building towers and mountains out of the sand.

It had been a pity to have Germanicus die, Tiberius thought, with a shudder against the wind. There had been so much potential, especially when Germanicus had been fighting in the North. Naturally, those legions that Germanicus had been so ably leading had presented a threat. What if that boy had turned against him? Tiberius could not lead an army, and surely, his commanders would be no match for such a popular figure.

Tiberius had seen a small scratching of Germanicus' profile on a report. He had certainly not diminished in beauty, bearing the striking and sharp features of the early Emperors, with coupled with the taut stance and attitude of youth. Nothing like his own sunken appearance. Tiberius had, for a moment, wished that he had kept Germanicus nearer, for the companionship, and for the ability to watch over him. Tiberius could have kept the boy under control, and let him grow into an Emperor.

There could be no trust in that plan, for Germanicus would have tried for Emperor's laurels, before Tiberius was ready to give them up. If it had not been for the ending of his life, Germanicus could have easily supplanted Tiberius. That foolish, foolish thought. Tiberius would hold on to his power, no matter what was said.

The wind picked up speed, winding through Tiberius' hair, playing with his robes. The storm had arrived on the island, and Tiberius was out, all alone. He shrunk further in on himself, trying to keep the warm, against the driving rain. A shiver ran through Tiberius, as he thought about Germanicus. It was a day to regret, that day that Germanicus had died. He could have done so well.

Tiberius looked out at the storm- tossed waters, losing himself in their repetitive crashes against the shore. He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and turned towards the bearer. Gaius was standing there, looking like a small and lost child, afraid to disturb an elder. When Tiberius smiled, a small tight-lipped smile, Gaius returned it. The stiff formality of the man would haven been too much for Tiberius to bear, had Gaius not so resembled his father. Tiberius could see Germanicus in this son, and it did pull at his feelings.

Tiberius was not even sure as to why Gaius had remained on this island. It was certainly not the place for a man with upward aspirations, the molding remnants of a passing Emperor's court. Tiberius was sure that Gemellus, the other young one, was anxious enough to get off Capri. There was no future here, only the decaying glory of old.

Gaius leaned over Tiberius' shoulder, gently tapping an unrecognizable beat. A conspiratorial whisper in Tiberius' ear, and soon, Gaius had snaked his hands lower and lower, exciting feelings in Tiberius that had long been dormant. Gaius was so like his father, but with all the possibilities that Germanicus had refused, thought Tiberius, as he floated to ecstasy.

A nod of thanks would not have been inappropriate, but Tiberius was not one for such pleasantries. The pleasure had been appreciated, and the cold had been assuaged out of his skin, and Gaius surely knew that this sort of thing was best left unspoken.

With one smooth movement, Gaius helped Tiberius to his feet, guiding him indoors, out of the cold rain. Gaius was certainly one to watch out for, Tiberius thought.

 

 

 


End file.
